


Tempus Falls

by Jam_Jackson



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:26:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21643642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jam_Jackson/pseuds/Jam_Jackson
Summary: A look into JJ's life, starting with his childhood and beyond.
Kudos: 2





	Tempus Falls

Brighton, England 1908.

“The history of the carving of the rutabaga was a common tradition for All Hallow’s Eve…” The teacher dryly recited from her textbook as she passed the silent rows of young children at their desks. Old newspapers covered the floor, put there to catch the chunks of turnips, if the child could manage to hack at the rather hardy vegetable that is. “The use of…this tradition was to ward off evil spirits, in America…pumpkins replaced the….” She paused to peer closely at one of the students chiseling away, the girl looked up nervously and turned the turnip around, it had small flat eyes and a round open mouth. The teacher nodded vaguely and walked on, the child let go of the breath she had been holding and got back to work. The teacher flipped through the pages, trying to grasp at anything _more_ interesting than harvests and Swedish turnips. “In Celtic lore…Samhain was a pagan festival for…..” She started to begin when the blissful sound of the last bell was being rung down the hall.

“Please bring your turnips home, I don’t want a repeat of last year with Miss Carole's class, leaving their turnips in their desks and attracting rats…again.” The students stifled their giggling and began to shuffle out into the great hall. The teacher rubbed the bridge of her nose and turned to face the blackboard and started to wipe it down. “Every year….I despise the stench of turnips…” ward off evil spirits”…bloody pagan hokum….” She groused. "Oh, Boo!“ A boisterous voice rang out from the back. The teacher turned around, pressed against the board and gasped, her glasses gone askew."What? Who..?!” She gasped. “ _A’ow_ …eye’s all crooked now. Miss Teacher can I…say….where’d everybody go?” The voice came from the back of the class, belonging to a boy, Jameson, he was small and pale, with large dark blue eyes that blinked as he turned his head looking at the empty desks around him.

The teacher sighed and fixed her glasses. "Home, Mr. Jackson, as you should be!“ She said, shaking a finger at the child. "Oh, but ‘m almost done, Miss…!” The boy said pleadingly, the teacher’s mouth twitched. “Very well then, you get to help me clean up.” She said curtly. “Aw but Miss, me father’s got-!” He said standing up. “ _My._ Not _me,_ Mr. Jackson, and he will have to wait…you must’ve been daydreaming again, I suppose..” “I wasn’t daydreaming this time! I ‘ad…I mean- _had_ me hand up the whole time, I did..!” He cried. The teacher made no reply, she had seen his hand waving around throughout most of the lesson, but she felt his raucous voice and endless tangents tended to disrupt any sort of peace she tried to instill in the class. The child blushed, shaking the icy feeling he felt coming from her. He crouched down and began quickly balling up the newspaper below the desks in his hands, in moments he gathered them all up in his arms tossed them into the nearby tin. With the floor cleared, he started to make his way towards the door. The teacher cleared her throat, and he slowly turned back around. She was holding the broom and gesturing to the now scattered pieces of turnip still on the floor. _Nerts,_ Jameson thought as he took the broom and began sweeping.

He glanced up at her gathering papers, not more than a moment of silence went by when the burning urge to speak overcame him. He felt like he was gonna burst at any moment. "I was finkin’ Miss, bout what you was saying about Sam'ain…..? Sam'ain, nice name innit? Dad says that when I was born I was almost named Sa-“ " _Mr._ _Jackson_ …” She said tiredly, raising a hand to stop him. “I fink-……I _think_ the rest of the work would be best done in _silence_ …" She wondered how a respected man like his father could handle a boy so effusive. “Yes m-…” Jameson closed his mouth and finished the rest of the chores, in reality, the task took only minutes but it felt like ages to the young boy. Finally, he finished and with a dismissive wave of the teacher’s hand, he gathered his stuff and bounded out the door.

He got outside and took a deep breath; it was a cloudy but warm early afternoon, amber and gold leaves floated gently down the cobbled road. Across the street, a shop had put out fresh bales of hay in the nearby corner for decoration, unfortunately, it had attracted a horse and buggy, the old horse thought it was snack-time and began to munch at the straw. The sight of the small driver timidly talking to it and pulling at the animal fruitlessly as the burly shopkeeper came lumbering out with a broom drew in a small crowd, Jameson watched and giggled along with the few standing nearby. The scene ended with the shopkeeper smacking the horse on the rear and the blur of the unfortunate rider sitting the carriage yelling out curses.

The crowd dispersed and Jameson wandered away, bringing his attention back to his turnip; it had small oval eyes a wide happy smile, above the mouth was a crooked swirl on either side, resembling a mustache. JJ picked at the edges with thumbnail to smooth them out, what should I call this one? He wondered something a bit fancier. George? Albert? He held it up and closed one eye, he looked like a bit of both. "Hullo, Jamie! What have you got there?” Called Mr. Cobb, the father of one of his classmates, he was short and round, hair the color of bronze with eyes to match. Mr. Cobb sat on his stoop with his smoking pipe in hand. “It’s a me-…my project for school..his name is…erm..Gelbert..!" Jameson said proudly and held it up higher. "Well it’s a pleasure to meet you Gelbert, and a Happy Birthday to you, Jamie..” He said with a smile.

“Ah, g’on, it’s not for another day, but thanks very much!” The child said with a bright smile. “Could Lionel and I go guising this year?” Jamie asked as he peered between the thin metal gate. Lionel was about Jameson’s age, he was sure this would be the year he could go out if he had a friend with him. “You’ll have to ask your father first, give him my best when you see him..” Mr. Cobb said with a small cough. “Right-o, be seeing you, Mr. Cobb!” Jamie said with a nod as he broke into a sprint towards home. Mr. Cobb gave him a wave and stepped back inside his house.

Mr. Cobbs face changed into puzzlement as he knocked out the remains of his pipe in a tray by the door. “Was that the Jackson boy I heard, Nigel?” A light voice called from the next room. “Yes, love, you could hear that boy’s voice from here to Buckingham Palace.” He murmured as he joined her in the parlor. “I’ve always thought he’s been a nice, sweet lad…good playmate for Lionel..” His wife said, she was sitting at her desk with a typewriter. Mr. Cobb kissed her cheek. “Yes, a lively one he is, can’t imagine what it’s like for John… always cooped up in that house, that one. A shame really…” He said looking out the window, the sun was peeking out for its last few hours, shimmering gold streaks on the misty cobble road. “I don’t believe that poor boy knows what his father does for a living…" He muttered quietly as he took a seat with his book. Mrs. Cobb looked at her husband worriedly and pushed the margin carriage back to the left.


End file.
